


Far From Perfect (But Perfect As We Are)

by Jump_Pilot



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, No beta we die like Nile, Rating May Change, Yassen is way out his depth, but his trying his best okay, mostly comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29869683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jump_Pilot/pseuds/Jump_Pilot
Summary: After a mission goes south and Alex has to extract himself without MI6's assistance, Alex calls the only other person he trusts.
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich & Alex Rider
Comments: 28
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a purely self indulgent fic. The title is from Rise Against. After Febuwhump I just want to wrap Alex up in a little bundle and not let anyone hurt him again.

Alex pulled himself from the river onto a deserted dock. It was the middle of the night local time and most docks were deserted. Everyone’s attention would be on the recently exploded warehouse upriver anyway.

After heaving himself up he lay shivering on the rough wooden planks and rolled onto his back to stare at the sky. The planks dug into his injured back but he ignored it. The night was clear but there was too much light pollution here to see many stars. At this point any sky was better than the concrete walls he had been staring at for the last eternity. 

He didn’t know how long he had been held in that dark room, monotony only broken by a string of torturers each convinced they would be the one to get the information out of him. An endless litany of “What is your name?” “Why are you here?” “Who do you work for?” followed by pain.

Slowly as thin wisps of cloud floated by above him, Alex felt his breathing even out and began to feel pain sparking at various points all over his body as the adrenaline high of his escape started to fade. He groaned as he rolled over and slowly pushed himself to his knees, and then his feet.

Alex made his way slowly down the dock. His clothes clung to his body and made movement difficult. He supposed he was lucky the weather here was warm enough he wasn’t hypothermic. First on the list was to get dry clothes. He resolutely shoved aside any thought of planning beyond that. It was too overwhelming.

One quiet break in to a second hand store later and he was set for new clothes. He had managed to find his personal belongings before blowing the warehouse, but only had time to grab his fake passport and the ever reliable tube of metal melting cream. He had also managed to grab a wallet off one of the thugs. There was no ID inside to help pin down who had held him, but plenty of cash in a wide variety of currencies and a fancy looking credit card.

Alex spent as little time in the store as possible. He eyed the phone on his way out, he had a number for MI6 to call in case of emergency, but told himself the time to call wasn’t worth the risk. He ignored the idea that maybe he didn’t want to call MI6.

The date on the computer had shown he had been held for nearly two weeks. That MI6 hadn’t found him in that time made something angry and bitter rise in his chest. He pushed it down and focused on his next self-assigned task, medicine.

Alex wandered the city until he found himself in what was clearly a tourist area. A quick stop in a drug store and a few minutes in their bathroom got him patched up enough he was unlikely to start visibly bleeding through his clothes.

Eventually Alex wandered his way into a park, prepaid phone in hand. He typed in the number for MI6 but his thumb hovered over the call key. He thought about what would happen if he called.

He would get a flight back to London, there would be a debrief of some kind, and then he would be sent back to his empty apartment. No Jack, not anymore, not even Ian’s old apartment. Just a flat with a bed and a couch and a couple pots and pans still in the box. He wouldn’t be there long anyway. Just long enough to recover, and then it would be off to another country on another mission. Rinse and repeat.

What other options did he have though. Somewhere from way back in his memory his brain dug up a chance meeting with Yassen Gregorovitch. After the initial shock of the man being alive he had given Alex a number. If he ever wanted answers, Yassen had offered.

Alex didn’t know if he wanted answers anymore. Answers wouldn’t change what had happened. They wouldn’t change the situation he was in. But it was the only other phone number he had.

MI6 or Yassen Gregorovitch. Alex dialed and waited with baited breath as the sounds of fake ringing came out of the tinny phone speaker.

After what felt like an eternity the phone went to voicemail and Alex hung up before it could start recording. He didn’t know what he expected, really, Yassen had given him the phone number several missions ago, he had probably assumed Alex would call as soon as the mission was over. He had no reason to keep the phone this long.

Alex looked down at the phone but couldn’t bring himself to type in the numbers for MI6. He had money, he could last a few more days before he needed MI6 to bail him out. It’s not like they would miss him.

He stayed on the bench just watching people. Enjoying the feeling of being outside. He had found a position that aggravated the least number of injuries and he couldn’t bring himself to stand up. 

Eventually his rumbling stomach goaded him up from his park bench and off in search of food. He managed to acquire some kind of wrap from a street vendor who had been willing to take one form of currency the stolen wallet had contained. He was halfway through the wrap, still wandering the streets in search of a hostel when his phone rang.

Alex nearly dropped the wrap in surprise when the buzzing started in his pocket and scrambled to answer. He didn’t bother checking the ID, nobody else had the number.

“Hello?”

“Alex.” The voice on the other end was warped by the cheap phone’s speakers but Alex still recognized Yassen Gregorivitch. The silence stretched on for a moment and Alex realized Yassen expected him to talk, explain why he called.

“I um,” Alex didn’t really know what to say. He was lost somewhere in a strange city somewhere in the world with only MI6 to fall back on. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” He settled on. It was true. He didn’t want to go back to MI6. Not now and maybe not ever.

“Where are you?” Yassen asked, always the pragmatist. Alex looked around, for the first time realizing he didn’t know.

“I was captured in Singapore but I don’t know where I am now. Pretty sure it isn’t Singapore though, the money is different,” Alex said. Yassen took an audible deep breath over the phone.

“Are you injured?” 

“I’m still mobile.” That was all that mattered really.

“Right.” Alex could hear the aggravation in Yassen’s voice. “Do you have a passport, money?”

“I have the passport with my cover identity for my mission and a stolen credit card from a probably dead goon. No address to go with it though.”

There was silence from the other end and Alex thought Yassen might decide he was too much work and just hang up. Eventually Yassen spoke again.

“Find an airport near you and text it to me with your eta. Get a cab. I will send you flight details.”

“OK,” Alex said. He noticed that at no point Yassen had mentioned where he would be flying to and was surprised to find he didn’t mind. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but London.

\---

Alex arrived at Tuy Hoa airport an hour later and used the self help kiosk to acquire his tickets. A flight to Noi Bai Airport then to Frankfurt with a final transfer to Moskow. Then details with a separate domestic flight from Moskow to Pulkovo Airport. Alex wasn’t sure where Pulkovo was, but from the name he assumed somewhere in Russia. He just hoped it wasn’t Siberia.

He had hidden the worst of the damage to his face and neck with a well placed scarf and some makeup. He took the time before his flight to touch up on his makeup. The results were mixed. He looked less like he had been mugged and more like a particularly sleep deprived traveler. It was good enough.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that Yassen had bought him first class tickets and was incredibly happy to board first and just sink into his seat. It took some adjusting to keep the lacerations on his back from hurting too much and his jeans from rubbing at the cuts on his thighs, but eventually he was settled.

He knew his passport would be flagged as soon as he used it. He was pretty sure MI6 wouldn’t have the resources to get an agent on this plane if they had even found out where he was yet. If they were even looking. He would have to be more careful when he landed in Frankfurt. He would need to lose any remaining tails in Moscow before he got on his flight to Pulkovo Airport. For now he figured he would be able to sleep on this flight, and more on the one to Frankfort.

\---

Two flights later and slightly more rested Alex ducked into a bathroom at Frankfurt airport. His makeup had held up and he decided it didn’t need any more touching up. Emerging back into the main terminal Alex kept an eye out for any sign of a tail. He had an hour before his next flight. He had been here with Ian plenty of times. He did his best to ignore the memories, but recalled the layout.

He rifled through his wallet and managed to find enough american dollars to buy a coffee. He drank it as he wandered seemingly aimlessly, keeping an eye out for any potential tail that never seemed to appear.

Instead of boarding first with the other first class ticket holders Alex waited and watched everyone else board first, only getting on right before last call. He knew he was being jumpy and paranoid but he couldn’t seem to tamp the fear down. Fortunately the seat next to him was empty. Alex spent the entire 3 and a half hour flight pretending to read a trashy paperback he had picked up in Noi Bai.

\---

Alex had been through customs more times than he could count. This wasn’t even his first time going through Russian customs. He still felt adrenaline kick in as he approached the desk. He managed to keep his hand from shaking as he handed over his passport.

He went with the most boring story he could think of. Here on vacation, only for a week, visiting a family friend. The woman behind the desk processed him with the same bored expression she had processed everyone before him.

“Welcome to Russia,” She said as she handed his passport back newly stamped.

He made his way to the international arrivals area and hailed a cab. He was on high alert for any tail but didn’t seem to have one. He had three hours before his next flight but wanted to be sure he didn’t have any sort of tail. He directed the cab to a hotel, paid with the stolen credit card and went in. 

“I have a reservation under Jones?” He said at the front desk. After half an hour of confusion and mistranslations it turned out Alex was indeed at the wrong hotel and he wanted the hotel in downtown Moscow, not the one at the airport. With deepest apologies Alex got in another cab back to domestic flights. It was a flurry of checking in and security and Alex just barely made it on to his flight. “Pulkovo Airport, St Petersburg'' the large sign at the gate said in cyrilic as Alex handed over his ticket. Not Siberia after all.

Nearly two hours later Alex stood in the domestic arrivals baggage claim staring at his phone. Yassen had arranged for the flights but he hadn’t said anything about what to do once he arrived. 

He scanned the crowd again, he wasn’t sure what he was looking for anymore. If he had a tail they had surely been thrown off by his little pit stop in Moscow, and he hadn’t seen anyone suspicious then anyway. He doubted Yassen would come himself, too many cameras, too much risk to be seen with Alex in public.

His third canvas of the arrivals area showed a man in a suit holding a sign for A.R. Without any other leads on where to go Alex walked over.

“Alex Rider?” The man asked when Alex reached him. When Alex nodded cautiously the man pulled out a phone and texted. They stood in silence for a moment and then Alex’s phone buzzed. 

“He is a limo driver. Go with him.” The text said. It was from Yassen’s number. 

“ _ Lead on, _ ” Alex said in Russian to the driver. He looked surprised for a moment at the Russian and then nodded. 

“ _ This way _ ” He said, and walked toward the doors. He brought Alex to a black limo and held the door for him. Alex ducked in, gasping as the motion pulled at his back and thighs. He hoped nothing had reopened. He had been lucky so far, but he really didn’t want to get blood all over the limo Yassen was paying for.

Alex watched the sights of St. Petersburg go by as the limo wound its way through the city. Eventually it stopped at a modern building on a busy street. The driver got out and opened the door for him. As he tried to duck out of the door and shift his weight onto his feet at the same time something in his back tore and he let out a gasp as his knees gave out under the wave of pain.

The driver caught him by the elbows and supported him while Alex gasped and got the pain back under control.

“ _ Are you okay? _ ” The driver asked. Alex looked up and saw the man was looking closer at him, face concerned.

“ _ I am fine, _ ” Alex replied as he got his feet back under him. “ _ Thank you. _ ” He tried for a smile but by the look on the driver’s face he didn’t think he succeeded. 

“ _ Do you want me to walk you to the door? _ ” The driver asked, though he let go of Alex.

“ _ No, I can make it, _ ” Alex replied, stepping out of the way so the man could shut the door. The driver still looked skeptical, but he didn’t push, merely nodded and headed back to the driver seat.

Alex felt his phone buzz as he turned toward the building. It was another text, this time with just a name and the word penthouse.

The lobby was made of dark granite with a waterfall running down the wall to the right. The desk was to the right and Alex went over to that. He gave the name Yassen had texted and the man nodded. 

“ _ You are expected, _ ” He said, then he handed Alex a keycard “ _ This will take you to the penthouse. _ ”

“ _ Thank you, _ ” Alex said, taking the keycard.

He swiped the card against the little pad in the elevator and pressed the button for the penthouse. As the doors closed and the elevator started it’s ascent Alex felt his nerves return in full force. This was Yassen Gregorovitch, ex-SCORPIA assassin. Sure, he hadn’t killed Alex in the past but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t this time.

A small part of his brain reminded him that Yassen had just paid for him to fly from Vietnam to St. Petersburg. That was an awful lot of work just to shoot him in his own apartment.

Alex was working his way into a full panic attack when the elevator emitted a soft ding and the doors opened. Standing a meter from the open doors was Yassen Gregorvitch in person. He was wearing a dark thermal shirt and what appeared to be sweat pants, his feet were bare on the wood floor. The anxiety in Alex’s chest eased inexplicably at the sight.

Alex exited the elevator on autopilot, the sound of the elevator doors sliding shut behind him felt like finality.

“You are cold,” Yassen observed, “You didn’t bring a coat.” Alex abruptly became aware that he was shivering.

“Coats for Russian weather weren’t exactly easy to find in Vietnam,” Alex pointed out, surprised at the annoyance in his own voice. He was cold and tired and all he wanted to do was lie down and stop hurting. He knew he shouldn’t be taking his anger out on Yassen, the man had no reason to take care of him. He could throw Alex out at any point if he felt like it.

Yassen had turned away though and walked over the massive couch in the middle of the room facing the floor to ceiling windows. He pulled a blanket off the back and gestured at the couch.

“Sit, I will get tea.”

Alex nodded and started making his way slowly over to the couch. There was no reason to hide his injuries and he didn’t want a repeat of the incident exiting the car. Yassen watched him as he took his first slow steps and something in his expression darkened.

“You are injured.” Yassen sounded angry.

“Yes, I said that on the phone in Vietnam.”

“No, you said you were mobile,” Yassen replied. There was something dark in his tone.

“I am mobile! See? I’m walking right now and I made it here fine didn’t I?” Alex said. He didn’t understand why Yassen was angry at him for being injured. He was always injured after a mission. Sure this time was worse than normal but that was no reason for Yassen to be angry. It’s not like he asked to be tortured for two weeks.

Yassen only arched a brow. Then he draped the blanket back over the couch exactly as it had been before.

“Change of plans,” Yassen said, “wounds first. Follow me.”

“What?” Alex asked, completely confused. Yassen ignored him and walked into a hallway across the room. He stood there dumbly as he heard the sound of a door opening and then running water. Sighing Alex followed the sounds. It wasn’t like he had any choice. Yassen would probably come back out and drag him there anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is labeled Gen, and this fic will stay at that rating. However there is nudity in this chapter (part of why the Teen rating) it is not sexual but I'm giving a heads up anyway.

The bathroom, when Alex reached it, was enormous. The size of his uncle’s bedroom in Chelsea, it was full of the same dark granite as the lobby and the ceilings seemed to stretch up forever. Yassen was kneeling next to what looked like an empty Jacuzzi. He had his hand stuck under a tap, testing water temperature and Alex realized it was a bathtub.

Faced with the sleek clean bathroom Alex abruptly became aware that the closest thing he’d had to a bath in the last two weeks were the buckets of icy water the men had poured on him, and his little swim in the river. He had disinfected his wounds as best he could in a public bathroom, but Yassen was right, his wounds needed to be cleaned properly.

After a moment Yassen seemed satisfied with the temperature and reached up to a shower head, switching the water flow. When he was done he looked over to where Alex hovered in the doorway.

“You will need to take your clothes off,” He said. When Alex didn’t move after a few moments something like hesitation crossed his face. “I can leave if you would be more comfortable,” He offered.

“I-” Alex thought for a moment. Did he want to be alone? He had been alone most of the time for two weeks. This was nothing like the cement cell he had been held in, but he abruptly realized the idea of being alone with his own thoughts, nothing to distract from the memories of hands on him, holding him down, cuffs around his wrists. He took a breath and refocused on Yassen. Reminded himself he was in a penthouse in St. Petersburg, not a concrete cell in Vietnam.

“Stay please,” He said softly, watching the water flow from the shower head instead of Yassen’s face.

Yassen nodded and then turned back to the tub. Alex appreciated the attempt at preserving his modesty. Yassen would see everything when he got in the tub, but at least he wouldn’t watch Alex strip.

Alex stepped all the way into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. As he bent down to try and take off his shoes his back exploded into pain and he gasped, barely remaining upright. Yassen twitched where he knelt on the floor but didn’t turn around.

Alex tried to bend down again, this time more slowly. He made it halfway before his back protested too loudly and he was forced to stand back up. After a moment of indecision he caved.

“I can’t,” He said, his voice small. Yassen turned around to look at him but didn’t say anything. He seemed to be waiting for Alex to explain.

“I need help,” Alex said. Yassen’s eyes narrowed in anger again but the expression was quickly wiped away. 

“Stand there,” Yassen said, gesturing to some kind of ottoman Alex hadn’t noticed before. Alex went and stood in front of it. Yassen came over and stood in front of him, so close Alex could hear his breathing. This close Alex realized they were now of a height. Where once Alex had been smaller, now he was able to look straight into Yassen’s eyes.

“Is this okay?” Yassen asked, his hands hovering just above the button of Alex’s jeans. Alex gulped and nodded. He wasn’t sure what other options he had at this point. He certainly wasn’t going to be able to get the jeans off himself. Frankly he probably couldn’t get his shirt either.

Yassen opened his jeans ,kneeling to ease them down. Alex hissed as the denim caught on the cuts across his thighs, fabric melded with scabs tore, and he grabbed Yassen’s shoulder for stability as he eased the jeans down to his knees.

Alex resolutely didn’t look down. He knew what Yassen would find on his thighs and he didn’t want to see Yassen’s expression. Two rows of lines perfectly lined up and precisely the same length, and, Alex knew, the same depth, ran down the top of his thighs. From where his leg met his hip all the way down to just above his knee. His left leg was completely covered. His right had only one line going partially down. He could feel the blood beginning to flow down from the opened scabs. 

For his part Yassen hesitated only a moment. Shifting the fabric up and away from the cuts as he drew the pants down. He repeated the same gentle motions with Alex’s underwear.

“Sit. You may use my shoulders if you need,” Yassen said once the jeans were clear of the cut around his knees. Alex nearly laughed at that. He was already using Yassen as a crutch, but the permission was nice. He gingerly sat on the ottoman, the suede surface weird against his bare ass.

The sound of the shower running filled the silent room, echoing off the walls. Yassen continued, gently removing Alex’s shoes and setting them aside. He paused when he reached the socks. 

“Do I need to be careful with these?” He asked, looking up. Alex stared at him in confusion for a moment and then realized that he was worried there might be cuts on the bottom of his feet. It was a common place to target. They had hit his feet in the early days, the first time he had tried to escape. It had hurt but the damage had been minimal. 

“No,” Alex said after a moment. “Mostly my thighs and my back. Only minor bruising on my feet and it’s mostly gone by now. I think. This time Yassen didn’t look angry, only blank. 

Yassen gently removed the socks and then paused, lifting Alex’s feet to inspect the damage. Alex let him.

“Minor bruising?” He asked after a moment, looking up with an eyebrow raised. 

“Compared to the rest of it? Yeah,” Alex said, he wasn’t sure what else there was to say. Sure his feet hurt, but it had nothing on his thighs, or his back. He was not looking forward to his shirt coming off.

Yassen sighed and got back to work. His pants followed by his underwear, then it was time for his shirt. Yassen stood up and reached for the hem. Alex instinctively flinched back and Yassen paused. His eyes narrowed in consideration of Alex’s tense body.

“Stay,” He said, and then turned away and walked over to the sink. He rummaged around underneath it and returned with safety scissors. 

“I am going to cut this off your back, but I will have to stand behind you. Are you okay with that?” Yassen asked. Alex felt his brow furrow in confusion. Yassen kept asking if he was comfortable with things like he had a choice. If getting his shirt off meant Yassen had to stand behind him then Yassen should do that. He shrugged, hoping Yassen would just get on with it. 

“Alex,” Yassen said gently, “I need a verbal answer. Are you comfortable with me standing behind you.”

“Yes.” Alex said, and in that moment realized he was. He wondered when that had happened. If it was before or after he had called in Vietnam. He had a sneaking suspicion it was before. 

“Thank you,” Yassen said, and walked around to Alex’s back.

Alex felt as Yassen tugged at the hem of his shirt, gently pulling the material away from his skin. He heard the first snip and took a deep breath to prepare for the pain he knew was coming.

For his part Yassen was gentle as he pried the shirt off of Alex’s back, and Alex dug his fingers into the ottoman and breathed his way through it. It hurt nearly as much pulling the shirt off as it had getting hit in the first place. 

Once the shirt was mostly pulled away and the true extent of the damage was visible Alex heard a soft Russian curse that faded into unintelligible muttering. Then Yassen stood up and cut the shirt at the shoulders before Alex could try to wiggle out of it. 

Yassen came around to Alex’s frond and offered his arm for Alex to take. 

“Into the bath now. I will help,” He said. Alex took the arm and slowly levered himself up. Everything seemed to hurt a hundred times more than it had before he sat down. His feet which had barely bothered him now throbbed with every step. His thighs burned and his back felt like someone had lit it on fire. A bruised rib made itself known with every sharp inhale and Alex forced himself to focus on the tub instead of looking down at his green and blue mottled torso.

Somehow he made it to the bath and Yassen slowly eased him in. Alex settled on one of the seats, careful to keep his back from touching the side of the tub.

Yassen disappeared and reappeared with a cloth, and a water bottle. Alex eyed the cloth with trepidation. He knew that it was necessary, but the idea alone had him curling up on himself.

“Do you have to?” He asked, looking back up at Yassen. He felt like he was ten again, asking Ian if he had to get a shot, not like an MI6 agent asking a contract killer if he had to clean his wounds.

“Yes. I am sorry little Alex. You can do it yourself if you’d like, but it has to be done,” His voice held true regret. 

“You can do it. I don’t think I can,” Alex said after a moment. He left out that he might be able to physically if he pushed through the pain, but he didn’t think he could. Maybe in Vietnam he had been able to, but something about being here, about feeling safe, made it impossible.

“Drink this,” Yassen said, handing him the water bottle.

Alex took it examining the safety seal. Yassen was an expert, he would hardly need to break the seal, but checking helped ease some of his anxiety. He opened the cap and took a sip that turned into big gulps as he realized how thirsty he was. Abruptly the water bottle was gone from his hands.

“Drink it slowly,” Yassen said, holding the water bottle just out of his reach.

“Okay,” Alex said, though he knew it came out sounding more like whining. Yassen sighed and looked skeptical but handed the water bottle back. Alex took it and forced himself to take measured sips.

When he was done Alex handed Yassen the empty water bottle and he set it down next to the tub and picked up the cloth. Alex grimaced, but turned around and gave Yassen full access to his back.

Yassen picked up the shower head and aimed the water at Alex’s shoulder, just above the worst of the whip marks. Alex hissed as the warm water trickled down. It burned each cut as it ran over it.

Yassen was careful, but it still hurt, and every once in a while little whines escaped even as he tried to tamp them down. But it was clear Yassen had experience with this, probably on himself Alex realized. The life of a contract killer wasn’t any gentler than that of an agent.

Once he was done with Alex’s back Yassen moved on to his thighs, which somehow hurt even worse.

Eventually it was done and Yassen set everything aside and turned off the water. Alex shifted gingerly to sit on his knees facing Yassen. Alex knew he should probably get out now. Let Yassen pat him dry and dress his wounds.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Yassen asked.

“No,” Alex said, shivering at the thought of revisiting the memories. He would just lock them away with all the other unpleasant things he’d been through and never think about it again.

“Some of these are more than a week old Alex,” Yassen said “This wasn’t punishment for ruining someone’s plans, this was torture.”

“I know.” Alex’s voice was harsh, he had been the one to go through it. The questions reverberated in his head again,  _ “What is your name?” “Why are you here?” “Who do you work for?”  _ A cacophony of different voices, and yet Alex could remember the face of each one. He shook his head and focused back on Yassen, who met his gaze evenly, but didn’t push.

Yassen stood up and retrieved the towel. He looked down at Alex.

“Up.”

Alex sighed heavily but obeyed. He levered himself up with the side of the tub and stepped out. As he straightened the world swum around him and he felt Yassen take a steadying grip on his elbow. 

Once the world was stable again his eyes refocussed on Yassen who was wearing an expression of concern, gone almost as soon as Alex recognised it.

“I will dry you and then you can sit while I dress your wounds,” Yassen said firmly. He didn’t ask if Alex wanted to do it himself this time. They both knew there was no way Alex could manage it. He nodded his agreement anyway.

The drying went quickly and Alex was soon seated on the ottoman again while Yassen rifled through a large basket of medical supplies he had pulled from under the sink. Alex felt the water drip down his body. Little lines of pain tracking their way through the wounds on his back. He had the absurd thought that he was ruining the suede ottoman and laughed. Yassen let out a questioning hum.

“Just, I’m dripping on your ottoman, and I’m probably ruining it. Why do you even have a suede ottoman in your bathroom?” Alex said.

“It was the right color, and the seat lifts off,” Yassen replied.

“Right, so you needed a place to hide your weapons and you decided a suede ottoman was an appropriate set piece for a bathroom?”

“The shipping was free,” Yassen said, as if that explained anything. The idea of Yassen scrolling through Wayfair or whatever the Russian equivalent was looking for furniture and caring about something like color and free shipping had Alex nearly gasping in laughter.

“I do not see what is so funny. Now sit still,” Yassen said behind him and that just set Alex off more. He knew he should probably be scared of irritating the person who’s home he was in and who was currently the one providing medical care but it was just too funny.

Yassen sighed behind him but waited for Alex’s laughter to slowly taper off before putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you done?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, reaching up to wipe tears off his face as his breathing returned to normal.

Yassen continued to methodically provide first aid. First to Alex’s back, and then to the cuts on the top of his thighs. By the end Alex was falling asleep where he sat, the exhaustion beginning to catch up with him.

When he was done, Yassen put his arm around Alex’s waist and guided him to the bedroom. Alex was grateful for the help, his legs felt like noodles and he doubted he could have made it anywhere on his own.

The bedroom door opened on floor to ceiling windows on two walls, looking out over St. Petersburg. The lights lit the darkness of the room like stars. Yassen led him over to the enormous bed, and lowered him to sitting on the edge. He then reached up to the top and pulled the comforter down.

“Here, Lay down,” he said, helping Alex to shift up the bed to the uncovered area and levering him down onto the sheets. Alex settled in on his side and Yassen pulled the blanket back over him.

“I will leave the door open, call if you need anything,” Yassen said. He hesitated by the bed, as if to say something else, and then turned and left, turning off the light on his way out.

Alex shifted carefully, turning over so that he was facing the enormous windows, away from the door. Something about that unsettled him, but after so long in a basement cell, he wanted to be able to see outside. The lights of St. Petersburg glittered around him and Alex could hear Yassen moving in the apartment through the open door. Exhausted, Alex slept.

\---

Yassen sighed as he walked away from the bedroom. He headed to the bathroom and began methodically cleaning up. He put away the first aid supplies, noting mentallly what he would need to order more of, and then grabbed the bleach and started wiping down everywhere blood might have gotten.

His mind drifted as he cleaned. He had been surprised when Alex had called. Giving Alex the phone number had been impulse on his part. He had expected Alex to call immediately after his mission completed. When he hadn’t Yassen had just assumed he wasn’t going to. Yassen wasn’t sure why he had even kept the phone. He had been incredibly surprised to find the light blinking when he had opened his bedside table drawer.

Yassen hadn’t been sure what to expect with Alex, but it wasn’t the washed out blank teenager currently sleeping in his room. The Alex he remembered, full of life and angry at the world, was not the Alex who had shown up on his doorstep.

Alex had clearly been tortured for at least a week and a half, maybe two. The fact that he was still alive suggested he hadn’t given up the information they had wanted. Whether that was because he didn’t know or because he was stubborn at the best of times was a question that would have to wait until Alex was awake.

Either way it was still an incredibly traumatic event to go through, and Alex would need time to process and recover. For the thousandth time that night Yassen wondered why Alex had called him of all people. Surely MI6 had better resources for dealing with trauma than a retired SCORPIA operative.

Alex had grown up in London, he must have friends there, a support structure, and MI6 had to be equipped to handle agents who had been tortured. So why had Alex chosen him. Yassen ran through a dozen reasons, but none of them seemed to fit. 

A small part of him wondered if this was a trap by MI6. If it was it didn’t look like Alex was in on it. And there was no reason for them to wait this long to attack either. 

It was just a waiting game now. Hopefully Alex would be more communicative tomorrow after some sleep. So far the only emotion he had shown was over a suede ottoman. Though looking at how ruined the leather was now Yassen supposed he had a point. He made another mental note to order a new weapons storage item for the bathroom. Preferably not suede this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I am going to do my best to post weekly but I make no promises.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! The second part to this is already written and will be posted next week. I will continue past that but make no promises on schedule.


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